


The Mask You Met Me In (Laser Light Remix)

by Teaotter



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So that's the new girl."</p><p>"Woman," Barbara corrects, rolling out from behind the bank of computers toward the mats where the hologram is standing. "Or so she says."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mask You Met Me In (Laser Light Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeadeuce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Old and New](https://archiveofourown.org/works/80359) by [likeadeuce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/pseuds/likeadeuce). 



The hologram shimmers into life one layer at a time. At first, the image is flat and slightly out of focus, with the blurry edges that make it look like a ghost in an old movie. In this case, those flaws mean the figure is only being projected from a single camera recording. Dinah guesses it’s the main camera in the wheelchair, from the angles at which the layers solidify.

Gradually the projectors fill in the details: The shine on the shoulder of the black uniform, the depth of shadows in the red hair, the razor-sharp lines of the red bat on the chest. Textured red gloves, belt, and boots. The mask is an elegant sweep across the face, contoured to disguise the expression of the wearer. The woman’s jaw line is exposed, but painted, almost mask-like itself as she stands in the shadow of a tower that doesn't exist in this room, or even this city. The entire projection freezes for a moment, then seemingly steps out from that shadowy place and into the center of the room.

Hello there, Dinah thinks. Out loud she says, "So that's the new girl."

"Woman," Barbara corrects, rolling out from behind the bank of computers toward the mats where the hologram is standing. Her own red hair shines in the reflected light, pale blue streaks in a more auburn red. "Or so she says."

"Hmm." Dinah nods a little as she walks around the projection, looking at it from all sides. Barbara hasn't quite frozen it; she's letting the computer extrapolate stillness from the original posture, but the figure appears to be breathing. The chest armor is shiny enough that Dinah can see a smudge of her own reflection, blonde hair and the gray t-shirt she’s wearing today instead of her uniform.

Working with the best has its perks, and this kind of tech is definitely one of them. Dinah is briefly tempted to find out if Oracle has extrapolated the woman’s fighting style from the footage. Sparring with one of Oracle's holograms is a little like meeting the real person, or at least a version of them, and Dinah just might want to know this woman. Barbara certainly does, considering the level of detail she put into the simulation and how quickly she put it together. "How many cameras did you have on her last night?"

"Only five," Barbara says with some wistfulness.

It makes Dinah smile. "I'm surprised they let you do it."

"Bruce wasn't hard to convince."

"Oh, I didn't mean Bruce." Dinah flicks a knowing glance over at Barbara, who blushes.

"Hm." She pretends to brush a speck of dust off the controls of her chair. "I may have mentioned my dad once or twice."

"Nepotism at its finest." Dinah raises an eyebrow, teasing. "How long has he had an elevator to the Batsignal, anyway?"

Barbara waves a hand at her. "Hush, you." She presses the remote, and the figure comes to life, stalking toward Dinah. The gaze is off; Barbara isn't using the computer to extrapolate very far from the original meeting, then.

 _"I wasn't sure the invitation was for me."_ The projection's voice is low-pitched, though probably not the woman's normal speaking voice, from the sound of it. The accent is pure Gotham.

 _"It is for you."_ Barbara speaking this time, the disembodied voice coming over Dinah's right hip. _It's only for you. He won't be coming."_

Barbara lets the recording play for a moment. There's a reaction to that statement, quickly covered. Dinah isn't sure if it's surprise, or merely interest.

"You tipped your hand there," she points out.

"I intended to." Barbara wheels forward until she's sitting where her voice came from in the recording. The projection's gaze is right on her. "What do you think?"

It's a loaded question, more Oracle than Barbara, and Dinah switches easily into professional mode. "She's wearing high end military contract gear. Nowhere near as good as the Bats, but better than the rank and file are getting these days. No obvious makers marks, so I'd say a private supplier, but standard manufacture. Decent enough physical stance. Martial arts, definitely. But god, she's young."

"She's older than most of us when we started."

Dinah laughs. "Not really. She thinks you're _harmless_. It's a rookie mistake."

Barbara glances over at her, expression innocent. "Don't I look harmless?"

Dinah laughs harder. "Even if she couldn’t see your forearms – or your hands – or your eyes, for god's sake – that chair of yours has a dozen places you could be hiding a weapon. Once she’s been in the life for a while, she’ll stop making assumptions like that."

Barbara doesn't respond, just starts the recording again.

 _"Is that what you think you're doing?"_ the woman asks. _"Are you some kind of amateur detective trying to solve my identity?"_

_"Amateur? And what are you, then? Did somebody hire you to do this?"_

_"I don't have to explain myself."_

The last is said with a shift in stance that almost makes Dinah crow out loud. Oh, she wants to explain herself, all right. She's practically begging to be asked. "She knows who you are at this point?"

"She knows I'm Barbara Gordon. Why?"

"She wants your approval."

"Hmm."

The projection moves again. _"To serve. This is the way that I can serve, this is how I've chosen to do it."_

"And she just lays it on the line there, doesn't she?"

"Maybe." Barbara tilts her head, studying the projection’s face. "She’s angry. Hungry, maybe. Then again, no one dresses up to fight crime because they’re emotionally stable," she adds wryly, and backs away for a better view.

"Some of us are just following the family tradition."

Barbara shakes her head without looking at Dinah. "She’s not in the community, or I’d know who she is."

"You will."

"Damn right, I will."

There is the sound of breaking glass, seemingly below their feet. The figure's attention shifts, before she backs to the edge of the holographic field and leaps into nothing. "She has the dramatic exits down pat."

"What do you think?" Barbara asks again, and this time, Dinah takes a minute to think about her answer before she speaks again. Barbara isn’t showing her this interaction, both sides of it, just for her professional opinion. They’ve known each other too long for that.

"She isn't you."

"The height could be faked," Barbara says immediately, as if continuing an argument they’ve been having all night. "The face paint specifically interferes with facial recognition software. The uniform dampens DNA trace --"

"And the stance could be a deliberate lie, or be caused by a difference in training explained by a different timeline. But it isn't. She. Isn't. You."

Barbara turns her head so her face is in shadow, a move Dinah doesn't think she's even aware of making. "Why."

"Because there isn't a version of you in any universe who would ever believe that another Barbara Gordon could be _harmless_."

That startles half a laugh out of Barbara before she catches it. "I'm just too hardcore for her?"

"Damn straight." Dinah rocks on her heels a little, pleased with herself. "She's got balls, though. Putting on a bat like that without permission. Reminds me of someone else I know."

"Hmm." Barbara presses the remote again, restarting the projection.

Dinah grins. "How many trackers did you plant on her, anyway?"

Barbara blinks at her. "I didn’t. Civilian identity, remember?"

Dinah just snorts. "How many?"

Barbara grins slowly back at her. "Only two."


End file.
